Snow Flavored Kisses
by bubbleteadesu
Summary: AU; In which Arthur is stranded in a London airport on Christmas Eve and learns a valuable lesson: sometimes it's best to let that handsome stranger with blond hair and blue blue eyes take the empty seat next to yours. He might just change your life.


**Title:** Turkey Sandwiches, Hot Choco and Snow Flavored Kisses?  
><strong>Author:<strong> bubbleteadesu  
><strong>CharactersPairing:** America/England  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>Summary:<strong> AU (human names used); In which Arthur is stranded in a London airport on Christmas Eve and learns a valuable lesson: sometimes it's best to let that handsome stranger with blond hair and blue blue eyes take the empty seat next to yours. He might just change your life-for the better of course.  
><strong>Warning:<strong> my lack of knowledge regarding airports orz  
><strong>AN: <strong>another one for the usxuk secret santa over at livejournal. This is for katokatsu and their prompt was _AU - Alfred and Arthur meet at the airport, both stranded for the holidays because of a blizzard. _Now I'm going to insert a huge DISCLAIMER here: I have never been out of my country, never been on an airplane and therefore have never been in an airport (I know, sad life right?). So this airport!AU was written based on what I've seen on TV, read in books and my own rose-colored fantasies. I apologize in advance OTL;. Other than that, enjoy! :3  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own Hetalia.

* * *

><p><em>Yes, I'm sorry hun. I know I promised I'd be there in time for Christmas but we can't help the weather now, can we?<em>

Arthur sat on a cold plastic chair in the middle of a busy London airport on Christmas Eve, his eyes focused on the magazine he was reading. But his mind was seeing nothing and hearing everything.

_Yes there was a blizzard but I'm sure-_

_Mom, it's alright really. I'm fine it's just a delay-_

Unconsciously, Arthur drummed his fingers against his chair's steel armrests. As if itching to call someone. Call anyone. But there was no one to call, never had been.

With a sigh, Arthur finally closed his magazine-it was just a trashy gossip magazine anyways, something he had picked up from the empty seat beside him. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He could see his apartment clearly in his mind's eye, lonely without its only occupant. Arthur's apartment was done in neutral beiges and grays, only sparsely furnished. He had purchased it that way and though his landlady had kindly told him that she was open to any decorating whims he might have, he had decided to keep it that way. He hadn't even bothered to put up any holiday trimmings for Christmas. He had never felt the need to celebrate the holidays anyways; he didn't have anyone to celebrate with, and celebrating alone felt _silly_, in a way.

He soon discovered that if he concentrated hard enough, he could be transported back in his beloved apartment. He could already feel a welcome fire, blazing cheerfully by the fireplace and warming his feet. His hard plastic chair slowly transformed into his old but very comfy armchair, an inheritance from his long-deceased grandfather. It had seen a lot of Arthur's life, both good times and bad-and unlike any living thing in his life, it had stayed with him (though one could argue that maybe it was because it didn't have any choice).

Arthur slid lower down his chair. He could already feel fatigue and sleepiness settling in, and he was ready to call it a day when he felt a rather rough tap on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes, and met a pair of startlingly blue ones, peering at him curiously from behind a pair of glasses.

The look of curiosity on the stranger's face slowly turned into a sheepish expression. He began to talk rapidly. "I was just wondering if I could sit beside you but I didn't realize you were sleeping, and I'm sorry I didn't mean to disturb you-"

It took Arthur a while to get through the stranger's nervous babble. "It's alright, I wasn't really asleep anyways. You can, uh," Arthur gestured vaguely towards the empty seat beside him. "You can sit down if you want."

"Thank you!" The stranger-a rather handsome one, Arthur couldn't help but note, with blond hair and bright blue eyes-settled in beside him, arranged his luggage by his feet and then turned so suddenly to Arthur that Arthur did not have enough time to hide how he was staring so intently at him.

Arthur blushed til the roots of his hair-or at least he positively felt that way. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare." He turned away and was just about to close his eyes again, return to his interrupted daydream, when the stranger spoke to him again.

He laughed. "You don't have to apologize!" Arthur refused stubbornly to look back at him, but from the corner of his eyes, he could still see the stranger peering rather too close to his face. "I'm Alfred Jones. And you are?"

"Arthur Kirkland."

The stranger-or rather, Alfred-finally sat back in his own chair, allowing Arthur to relax. "Just wondering, but are you British? Your accent sort of gives it away."

Arthur fumbled with his hands nervously-he now wished he hadn't tossed his magazine away so carelessly. At least it would have given him an excuse to avoid talking, a pretence of being busy that usually kept everyone else at a safe distance from him. He was never one for small talk, but even if Arthur couldn't see Alfred, he could feel that Alfred was waiting expectantly for an answer. Maybe he could simply answer this, go through the usual awkward questions that would then follow dutifully, and then, when Alfred ran out of questions, he would finally let Arthur be. Everyone else did that.

"Yes, I am actually British though I'm only back here in London for a short vacation."

* * *

><p>But Alfred wasn't <em>everyone else.<em>Alfred did not stop after a few awkward questions. No, Alfred went on and on, and as long as there was still something left to learn about Arthur, then he would ask about it.

And surprisingly, Arthur didn't mind. Not at all. In fact, in their several hours of conversation, he had learned that Alfred was American (something he had already deduced from the accent actually), in his last year of college in New York (where Arthur was residing as well, surprisingly), and had actually come from a week-long vacation in his best friend's house in Japan, among others.

And Arthur had surprisingly told Alfred a lot of things as well: that he was British (something Alfred had also already deduced from his accent), was a librarian also based in New York, and had only gone back to London for a short vacation.

Alfred searched through his carry-on luggage and pulled out a pack of strawberry Pocky. He tore it open and offered Arthur one. "Why work in the US though? I mean, London isn't such a bad place," he asked as he and Arthur both munched on their Pocky.

Arthur shrugged. "I guess I just like the US more than here now." He picked another stick from the foil pack and didn't say any more. As much as he enjoyed talking with Alfred, they had just met several hours ago after all. He was still, practically, a stranger to him, and Arthur wasn't comfortable making strangers privy to his personal affairs.

Alfred seemed to get the hint though, because after a while he changed the topic effortlessly. "It's a shame though, don't you think Arthur? Because of this blizzard, we can't spend Christmas at home." He laughed. "My mom will surely kill me. She was always going on about having the family together during the holidays but I still went and flew to Japan. But then, it's not like you get a free ticket everyday you know?"

"I don't really celebrate Christmas." Arthur admitted. He then tried to ignore the way Alfred ogled at him after hearing those words.

"_What? _But why? I mean, okay sure, maybe you aren't the religious type but that doesn't really mean you can't celebrate anymore, right? Christmas is fun! You get to eat a lot, and have all these presents and everyone is just so warm and cheery and _nice_ during the holidays. You can sit in front of the fire and drink hot choco-"

Arthur automatically tuned out halfway through Alfred's rambling. It was all the same reasons, the same arguments, and Arthur had heard them all. He had spent years not celebrating the holiday, and he was surely not going to start now.

He must have been too successful in tuning out Alfred because the next thing he knew, Alfred stood in front of him, tugging urgently at his hands, folded on his lap.

"What are you doing Alfred?" he asked, shocked. But Alfred continued tugging at his hands, at the sleeves of his jacket, and then back at his hands, until Arthur finally relented.

He stood up, but Alfred still did not let go of his hand. He winked at Arthur.

"Remember tonight, Arthur. Because tonight, I will show you how I rock Christmas."

* * *

><p>It was not only the flights to New York that were stranded because of the furious blizzard roaring outside.<p>

And so, even with the number of restaurants, fast food chains and cafes all around the airport, it still took Arthur and Alfred a good while to finally find an empty table in a small deli.

"Sit down," Alfred ordered Arthur before he fell in line by the counter, behind the other hungry passengers.

Arthur settled in his seat-a much more comfortable one compared to the cold plastic one earlier-and looked around him. So many people, all wanting to be everywhere else but here. He could see it written in their faces, in the way they strode impatiently on every space available, as if this could bring them closer to home. Arthur could a certain sense of impatience, bordering on frustration, in all of them-_if I could fly through these sleet and snow, I would_. Arthur finally turned away, looked instead down on his hands, clasped on the table in front of him. He was the only one who did not feel these things, this urgency to be home-because there was no one waiting for him.

A cold feeling gripped his heart suddenly, that emotion that always surfaced during Christmas: loneliness. He_tsk_ed to himself-he did not need to celebrate the holiday with his so-called family, brothers who were all over England but had not even bothered to call him during his whole stay in London. All he needed for Christmas was his favorite armchair by the fireplace with a welcome fire roaring in it and the thick novel he had recently borrowed from the library-

"Hey Arthur! Why's your face all scrunched up?"

"What?" Arthur looked up to find Alfred trying his best to mimic him, his eyebrows and mouth all scrunched up so comically that he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. Did he really look like that?

Alfred grinned at him then, and held up a tray of sandwiches and two mugs of steaming hot something for Arthur to see.

He set down the tray of food on the table before sitting across Arthur. "Turkey sandwiches," he told Arthur cheerfully, handing one sandwich to him. "Every Christmas, my mom has this _huge_ turkey for all of us, stuffed with everything good, but they didn't have that here so turkey sandwiches instead." He bit off a good part of his sandwich. "Delicious!" he added, mouth full of food.

Arthur studied his own sandwich first, turning it this way and that before finally biting into it. It had not looked that promising on the outside-it had actually looked a bit like a ham sandwich-but amazingly, it tasted just like turkey. Good amazingly roasted, juicy turkey. "Not bad," he finally said after a few more bites. Alfred's smile grew even wider at this.

"Oh, and before we forget," Alfred handed Arthur one of the mugs. Arthur forwent the mug's handle and held the mug instead with both hands-it felt warm and comfortable in his freezing hands. He peered down the mug. It held hot choco, and though Arthur preferred tea over everything else, this was not so bad. Sweet, warm and soothing.

"I thought you looked cold, Arthur, so I thought some hot choco should warm you up. It always did it for me." Alfred smiled at Arthur, and Arthur wondered if he had just imagined it, if it was just a trick of light but Alfred's smile seemed different-softer, warmer. Arthur felt his heart skipped a beat, and he drank a bit of the choco to hide it.

Despite himself, he smiled in his mug. He felt very much warmer indeed.

* * *

><p>"Alfred! Where are you taking me?"<p>

Alfred merely laughed at Arthur's repeated queries, making him frown in annoyance. They had been walking along hurriedly for some time now, Alfred holding Arthur's hand firmly in his as Arthur stumbled on behind him.

Finally:

"We're here!" Alfred announced, finally letting go of Arthur's hand. Arthur stared at the shop in front of them.

"The airport's gift shop?" Arthur asked, puzzled. He followed Alfred as the latter entered the shop, walking past the shelves of airport merchandise-caps, shirts and bags among other, all emblazoned with the airline's logo-and travel guides and maps of London.

As he followed Alfred, who continued to ignore the shelves and tables around them, a realization suddenly dawned on him. "You're here to buy gifts for your family, is that right?" Arthur asked, certain that he was right. It wasn't a practice he participated in actively, thought he did receive a few trinkets from his co-librarians during the holidays, but that didn't mean that he was so out of loop with Christmas traditions that he didn't know about _this_.

To his surprise, Alfred shook his head. He suddenly stopped; they were already at the far end of the shop. Alfred suddenly turned back to Arthur, so fast that Arthur had to take a step back to keep his balance. He beamed widely at Arthur. "Don't worry, I already have gifts for my family. We're here to exchange gifts!"

"What? You want me to get you a gift?" Arthur asked, looking around. There wasn't even anything of interest here, at least to him. He had no need for an airline shirt or cap, and he certainly didn't need a tourist guide to London-he had lived here his entire childhood, and he knew London as well as the back of his hand.

"Don't worry!" Alfred replied, chuckling. "I'm going to get you a gift too so it's a fair exchange, eh?" He moved aside, and Arthur finally saw the stand behind him. He moved closer towards it, a stand filled with an assortment of stuffed animal key chains.

"See here?" Alfred said, moving closer to Arthur. He picked up a bear wrapped in a Union Jack scarf sitting in front of Arthur, his head so near to Arthur's shoulder, so close, strangely making Arthur's breath catch in his throat. "I think you should give this to me. It looks just like you, with those thick eyebrows and little frown."

"I think you're doing this wrong," Arthur huffed, though he was finding it hard to pay attention, with the way his heart was now beating erratically in him-if only Alfred would move away, just a little bit! "I-I should be the one doing the picking for you, git."

Alfred laughed loudly at this. "Yes, you're right!" He finally moved a step back, to Arthur's relief-it was only then that he realized he had forgotten to breathe for several minutes there. He kept his back firmly towards Alfred, concentrating instead on all the stuffed animals in front of him. "Like this," he said, picking up a small white rabbit. "I can give this to you because I think you're always hopping all over the place. Like a rabbit."

Alfred moved his hand, so it was on top of Arthur's hand. _And there it was again, that silly beating of his heart._"You shouldn't tell me what your gift for me is! Keep it a surprise."

Arthur suddenly jerked his hand away, and the rabbit fell back with the other animals on the stand. He looked down on the floor, trying to hide the way his heart was now doing somersaults all over his chest. "I-I think we should go now. There might be news of our delayed flights after all."

"Yeah you're right," Alfred chuckled. "Besides, we can do this some other time, right?" He turned to walk away, and once Arthur was sure Alfred wasn't facing him, he turned to follow him out of the shop.

Next time…did they really have a next time after tonight?

* * *

><p>They were back on the plastic chairs where they first met-surprisingly no one had decided to sit on them, though it was probably because they had dumped all the luggage they could on top of them.<p>

After they had rearranged all their stuff, Arthur sank on his chair. "I heard the airline's offering to give us free accommodation for tonight, in a nearby hotel."

"I'm fine here," Alfred replied, and before Arthur could say anything more, he leaned on Arthur, his head on Arthur's shoulder, and promptly fell asleep.

And Arthur sat there, frozen in shock. He felt Alfred's breath against his neck, the soft sleeping rhythm playing in his ear. He wondered if he could relax enough to fall asleep, with Alfred's head on his shoulder. _No one had ever been this close to him before._

But soon fatigue won over, and Arthur fell asleep as well.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Arthur woke up with a crick in his neck and the weight on his shoulder gone.<p>

"Alfred?" he murmured, rubbing the sleep off his eyes. He look down and noticed a note tucked in between the handles of the carry-on bag on his lap.

_Hey Arthur!_

_Merry Christmas! Or should I say, Happy Christmas? That's how you say it here in London right? Anyways, come meet me up at the rooftop. There's a staircase leading to it next to the fire exit. I hope you wake up early enough to read this._

_-Alfred_

Arthur folded up the note and tucked in his jacket's pocket. What was Alfred doing up at the bloody rooftop, of all places? Wasn't there a blizzard out there?

But Arthur stood up, stretched his legs and went to look for the fire exit.

* * *

><p>Arthur opened the heavy steel door to the rooftop and found Alfred seated on the snow, looking out at the sunrise.<p>

The blizzard, Arthur realized, had blown over the night over and this morning was the peace after the storm. He walked quietly, as if afraid to disturb the serene mood that had now fallen here, and sat a little behind Alfred.

Arthur was an early riser, but he rarely had the opportunity to watch sunrises. And he knew he had never felt this much _awe_ while watching one. He watched as the sun slowly spread its orange-gold glow to cold gray London, basking the icy streets, the icy buildings and the icy people in her comforting warmth.

"I know you're behind me, Arthur. Come closer."

"No, it's fine. I'm alright here," Arthur replied hesitantly. But it seemed this wasn't the answer Alfred wanted, because he suddenly turned around, and with a smirk, he pulled Arthur towards him.

"You git!" he spluttered out, as he fell face first on the snow beside Alfred, who roared with laughter at him. He sat up and dusted the snow off his clothing.

"Look at how much snow's here, Arthur," Alfred told him as Arthur continued to sulk beside him, arms crossed across his chest. He patted down the snow beside him. "That must have been one hell of a blizzard." He moved in front of Arthur and sat down, his eyes suddenly all bright and excited. Arthur knew that look; it was a look the kids at the library wore whenever they were suddenly _inspired_ by a brilliant idea-usually involving play-acting a fairy tale he had read to them earlier with Arthur as the princess, complete with a frilly dress and tiara. Arthur looked away, made his frown more pronounced. But Alfred continued jumping around and tugging at Arthur's sleeve and looking at him with those bright_bright_ eyes until Arthur finally relented.

He sighed. "What is it, Alfred?"

"Let's build a snowman!"

And so they did. And somehow it ended up with Arthur being more invested in their snowman, packing in more snow in the snowman's face and body so it was just perfectly round, while Alfred played around in the snow like the silly kid that he was. Arthur wrapped his scarf around the snowman's neck and stepped back to look at his masterpiece. But it was missing something, and it didn't take Arthur long to realize what it was.

"Alfred!" he called. "Our snowman's missing a face! How do we go about it? I mean, I can't just rip buttons off my jacket-"

Suddenly, something wet and cold landed on the back of Arthur's head with a loud _splat_. Arthur folded his hands into tight fists at his side, growing indignation burning inside him. "Alfred Jones what in the bleeding hell do you think are you _doing_?"

"Alfred attack incoming!" And then from out of nowhere, Alfred tackled Arthur down until they rolled on the snow, Arthur landing a little painfully on his back and Alfred landing on top of him rather heavily.

Arthur grunted, and Alfred finally moved from him. Except he didn't really, because now he stood on all fours on top of Arthur, looking at him with those bright blue eyes of his from behind slightly-lopsided glasses with a serious _intensity_ Arthur had never seen in them before. Alfred's face was so close to Arthur, so close that he could feel his soft warm breath against his face, see the way his lashes curled towards his eyelids and that slight soft flush of his cheeks and his lips, slightly chapped but still perfect in their way, moving closer closer closer-

And then suddenly Alfred stood up, and the moment was gone.

Arthur sat up too, and beside him, Alfred sat quietly, rubbing his hand across his face. "I'm sorry," he muttered, mostly to himself, "I shouldn't have."

Arthur turned away instinctively, even if Alfred wasn't looking at him. He ran a cold hand across his face, burning warm against his skin. "It's alright. Want to go in and get something warm to drink?"

It was alright, really.

* * *

><p>After they had bought some hot choco from a vending machine, Alfred disappeared from Arthur's side just as suddenly as he appeared.<p>

When Arthur returned to the plastic chairs, he found Alfred's luggage gone from where it was scattered on the floor beside his. Seemed like Alfred had suddenly decided to sit elsewhere.

Arthur sat down on his seat and searched through his carry-on bag for that novel he remembered stashing for some in-flight reading. But even as he tried to immerse himself in the story, his mind was elsewhere, back at the rooftop earlier this morning.

_His eyes shining so blue, his breath so soft against his face, his lips so close so close_

After rereading the opening paragraph far more times than was normal, Arthur finally gave up on his novel. With a sigh, he leaned back on his chair, his eyes closed. _Where had Alfred gone? Could he have left because of_that_?_ Arthur shook his head wildly to clear out the thoughts buzzing relentlessly in his mind. He should really stop looking for Alfred. After all, hadn't he been just a stranger to him just the afternoon before?

_Just a stranger, yes. _But the nagging thoughts continued pestering Arthur the whole morning.

* * *

><p>Even if Alfred's sudden disappearance bothered Arthur, it was soon too late to start looking for him because early that afternoon, it was announced that all flights were now given the go signal to continue on, including flights delayed yesterday.<p>

And so Arthur ran back and forth different counters, pushed through crowds of other passengers also raring to go to their destinations, and secured a flight home.

Arthur picked up all his luggage, and looked at the plastic chair that had been his home for the last two days for one last time. _How strange to be this sentimental of a chair._Arthur's eyes flickered to the chair next to him, empty and lonely without its cheerful occupant. _Wasn't he just like that yesterday?_

Arthur gripped the steel handle of his rolling luggage tightly. There was no use thinking of Alfred now. He was now off, about to go back to his ordinary life in New York, go back to the comforts of his beige-and-gray apartment. That life didn't have any Alfred; maybe he should start getting used to that-

"Arthur!"

Arthur turned around sharply. Alfred stood behind him, catching his breath, his blond hair all tousled up from running.

Arthur stared at him wide-eyed, as Alfred walked towards him. He must have been frozen on the spot, because he was aware of Alfred taking his free hand, uncurling it and dropping something on his palm-a white rabbit keychain and a folded up piece of paper.

Alfred smiled sheepishly at Arthur, as Arthur stared at the objects on his palm. "I was so sure I wouldn't be able to get these to you in time so I'm so glad I did." He nudged Arthur gently. "Go on. Open the note."

Arthur dropped his luggage gently, and then, slowly, he uncurled the note in his palm. Inside was a set of numbers, quickly scrawled and barely legible. He looked up at Alfred curiously. "Is this…a cellphone number?"

Alfred grinned at him. "Not just any cell phone number. That's my number. So you can, uh, call me?"

"Uhmm, wow," Arthur continued to stare down at the numbers in his palm, his face burning up to dangerous temperatures. "I didn't expect this."

Alfred's voice grew softer, a little unsure. "You will call me, right?"

"Of course I will." Arthur looked up then, and he didn't expect to find Alfred so close to his, again with those bright blue eyes peering so intensely in his own. "There's one other thing actually, Arthur."

Arthur swallowed down the lump in his throat. "What is it?" he whispered back.

"I was thinking hard about this morning, and I realized I really wanted to do it a while ago but I couldn't. Not like that at least."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked, even if deep down he knew what Alfred was talking about-_or at least he hoped he did, hoped so hard his heart might burst right then and there_.

"Is it alright if I kiss you Arthur?"

And Arthur nodded slightly, only nodded even if his heart was positively exploding into fireworks in his chest right now. And so Alfred leaned forward and pressed their lips together, and Arthur kissed him back . And even after that, they stayed close together, pressed against each other, so close so Arthur could study every line and curve of Alfred's face and fall even deeper in those bright blue eyes.

"Let's meet again," Alfred told Arthur, a smile playing on his lips.

And Arthur smiled back, Alfred's note still held tightly in his fist. Of course they would. They would meet again.

_end_


End file.
